


Love is an everyday magic

by redsnake05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: Ron didn't realise he'd chosen the path of his life when he made Harry smile for the first time





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nea/gifts).



> Writing this pairing is like visiting an old friend. Thank you for requesting it.

It had started on the train as they headed for their first year at Hogwarts, Ron decided later. It was awkward to admit his life had been pretty much decided on Platform 9 ¾, but it was true. As soon as he made Harry smile just that little bit, he was lost. It was only as he got older, and started finding his feet without help, that Ron realised just what had happened. 

He didn't say anything, of course. He had no words to explain how he wanted to look after Harry and be the one to share the burdens of a life with Voldemort, or even a life without. Fortunately, he and Harry had never been much for words, and it had happened one day in the summer, before Bill and Fleur's wedding. The sun had been setting with long shadows in a beautiful blue sky, and Ron had pulled Harry up from the grass and found him in his arms instead. 

Harry clung to Ron's shoulders with greedy fingers, and kissed with an uncomplicated hunger. Ron sank back down onto the grass and cradled Harry on top of him, and they laughed between breathless kisses. They touched as if each other's skin was a familiar map, and Ron cast a hasty privacy spell as Harry wriggled their shirts off. As they rubbed against one another, Ron felt like they caught fire from the heat between them. He captured Harry's moans in another long kiss, and the first stars had bloomed in the night sky before they lay together, spent. 

Ron looked up at the gathering darkness and smiled. This felt so right; it was as if they had always been like this together; as easy and simple and essential as breathing.

>>>>

Hermione looked up from her dusty old book and gave Ron and Harry a long, considering look over the table. Ron wouldn't have thought anything of, except then she turned the book around and shoved it under his nose. He drew in his breath sharply as he read it; soul bindings were not common, and this one appeared to be crossed with a more than ordinarily romantic handfasting. Of course, soul bindings weren't common because they were borderline dark magic, but there was something about the concept that appealed deeply. The thought of being that attached to Harry was something he'd never thought about before, but found he wanted it.

"I'll help you with the potion," she said. 

Ron nodded; it was rather finicky from what he could see. He understood that Hermione wasn't really saying they should do the spell right now, just that it was a possibility, and an oblique way of saying she'd seen the change in their relationship and she supported it.

"It seems a little… extreme," he said. Hermione snorted, and Ron had to grin. Extreme was an understatement; this was romantic notions turned up to eleven, with dubious origins and obscure morality thrown in for good measure. "I mean, this part, about the foretelling of the bond, and the declaration of the fate that made them find each other is, well, rather over the top." He pointed to the section and Hermione snorted again, this time much closer to laughter. Ron could see why. For a borderline dark lifetime soul binding, it was a little florid in its insistence on romantic declarations.

"What's foretold?" asked Harry, looking up from his own book.

"Oh, it's another prophecy," she said. "That you would bind to and follow another; a princely redhead."

"Shut up, Hermione," Ron muttered.

"And in the shelter of his arms you would find safe harbour," she continued. "He would lead the way by the radiance of his blushing and embarrassment."

"You don't believe in prophecies," said Harry, not sure what they were talking about.

"Well, if we have to have the other bloody prophecy, we might as well have any others that we want," she said. "And I like my one better."

Harry pulled the book away from Ron and scanned the spell, while Ron took a moment to smile gratefully at Hermione. 

"No," said Harry, shoving the book back at Hermione. "We can get handfasted one day, I suppose, but this is all a bit much. Going skyclad fell out of fashion for a reason."

"Don't you want your witnesses admiring the fine, manly form of your intended?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Harry. "I'd like to keep him all to myself." Ron's heart warmed at the simple declaration. "Besides," Harry continued, "we're supposed to be looking for things to help kill Voldemort, not shady little binding rituals containing way too much nudity and flowery language."

"Alright, be that way then," said Hermione. "Perhaps you can brush up on your silencing spells instead, if this is a bit much for you."

Ron blushed and cleared his throat awkwardly, hand squeezing Harry's thigh under the table. He supposed they had been a little loud.

>>>>

Through the shortening days of autumn and winter, they researched and hunted and fought together. Ron wasn't the leader of this grim adventure; he had no explaining to do, nothing that he knew more than the others, and, in fact, he often knew less. He sometimes felt like he was the little brother all over again, with nothing special about him. It was hard to dig deep and find ways to look after Harry when everything was so hopeless around them. He knew Harry worried about the prophecy and the possibility of his death, but he also knew that alternated with not caring about his future, or lack of one.

Ron grasped the edge of the bench in their little pop-up kitchen and waited for the water to boil. The charmed window looked out to an unchanging landscape of damp trees. Ron was so sick of camping and trees. He was so sick of the wearing bleakness of waiting and planning and waiting. It helped to think of it as playing chess, but not a lot. 

The kettle boiled and Ron made three cups of tea, muttering a little charm to make them come out exactly right. The almost floral of Hermione's Earl Grey - a wizarding blend, though, with lemon myrtle as well as bergamot - contrasted with the tarry workaday of Ron's preferred breakfast blend, made strong enough for the spoon to nearly stand straight in it. He hesitated a little over Harry's before he tapped the rim and made it milky, smoky and comforting like his mother had made for him as a child. He knew Harry had never had tea made for him before Ron did, and his lips curved in a reminiscent smile as he remembered Harry's surprise and shy delight. That had been the first time Ron has realised that the domestic magic of friendship and family was something Harry needed, and something Ron could.

He handed Harry his cup of tea, and the sight of his smile warmed him more than anything else. Hermione accepted hers with an absent grunt, nose buried in a book, and the look Harry and Ron exchanged was both loving and amused. Ron sat next to Harry and slung an arm around his shoulders. Harry snuggled up close, accepting the warmth and companionship without any kind of hesitation or awkwardness. It was an everyday kind of love and support that he gave, to beat back the shadows of Voldemort. It wasn't epic, and Ron once would have worried about that. He didn't worry now; Harry needed the comfort of simplicity, not a boyfriend who could slay dragons.

"Aha," said Hermione, slamming down her book. Ron reached forward automatically and stopped the tea from spilling.

"Aha?" he echoed.

"A _ha_ ," she agreed.

"Are you going to share?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," she said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you both to strip naked for me." She grinned at their horrified looks and took a long swig of her tea. "You make the best tea, Ron."

"Never mind that, exactly why do you need us starkers?" Ron asked.

"Well, one could say that I don't really, but I liked the look of that spell I found." Ron was confused for a moment, but then he remembered; the dodgy soul-binding one.

"Oh, surely not," said Harry, obviously making the same connection.

"Oh, yes," said Hermione. "I did a bit of digging and a bit of research and some arithmantic modification, and, well, I think it could be a really useful spell, for both of you."

"Exactly how?" asked Ron. That was quite enough. Hermione explained in detail the process of soul-binding, and, in particular, how it was very definitely different from making a horcrux. Harry's eyebrows raised so far they disappeared into his hair at that. He didn't seem very reassured, but Ron listened carefully to the description of shared purpose, of everyday protection. This wasn't a flashy binding of allegiance, as might have existed between a lord and a vassal. This was a quiet, joyous binding that could be entered into freely and left freely, that one might meet and share the burdens of life in a harder time. Ron was thoughtful as Hermione wound down and drank the last of her now-cold tea.

Ron knew Harry wouldn't like it, but he could see the benefit in this. While Ron existed and the bond lay between them, Harry's soul could not cleave to the horcrux shards of Tom Riddle, whether they lay inside or outside him. He might face danger, might die still, but this was a quiet and domestic protection only. He spoke before Harry could open his mouth on a flat refusal.

"I think we should do it," he said. He tightened his arm around Harry's shoulders. "It's not something flashy, not something that makes you a king. It just lets me be family for you, in a deeper way."

Harry paused at the mention of family. His face got that hungry look it wore sometimes, when he saw something that seemed ordinary to Ron, but he was missing. 

"Tell me again, exactly how will this help me without putting Ron in any more danger?" he asked. Hermione launched into another, even more exhaustive explanation, and Ron got up to make another cup of tea. It was best to let Harry digest these things in his own time, and Ron thought they'd all be better for another cuppa. He looked out over the damp trees again and lost himself in thought.

Harry wrapped himself around Ron from behind, laying his head flat against Ron's back. 

"Do you want to do it?" he asked. Ron wasn't sure what Harry was really asking, or wanting for him, but he wrapped his hands over Harry's, where they rested on his belly, and answered the surface question first.

"Yes," he said. "I would do anything for you, but this isn't about sacrifice. If old snakeface didn't exist, if we were free as birds, I would still want to do this."

Harry sighed deeply and relaxed a little bit more into him. The kettle boiled and Ron dislodged him enough to make the tea. They were different this time, and Ron didn't question how he knew that. He knew Harry and Hermione, with instinct honed by observation and close company. Whoever said familiarity bred contempt had never actually noticed the ever-changing flow of life together. 

"Okay," said Harry. Ron wasn't sure just how much he was agreeing to, but it didn't matter. He turned in the loose circle of Harry's arms and leaned down for a kiss. It wasn't grand fireworks, but it didn't have to be. A strict diet of grand passion would be exhausting. Sometimes they needed the comfort and uncomplicated warmth of their bodies and hearts together. 

When Harry's fingers dug into Ron, and he clung closer, Ron let the kiss deepen further, pouring all the love and reassurance he had into it. He wanted to show Harry all his love, wrap him up and press him back into the sheets of their bed, make him fall apart and then put him together, and let Harry do the same to him. 

"Hermione says we should do it on Beltane," Harry said, breaking the kiss at last, but making no attempt to leave the circle of Ron's arms. 

"As long as we're not going to cast a fertility spell," said Ron.

"One of us had better check," said Harry. "I'd rather not have to explain to your mum that I knocked you up."

Ron didn't bother answering. Harry felt good in his arms, so he kissed him again. This time it was hotter, closer, with Harry's hands holding Ron's hips still to get the best angle for slow, hard friction. Ron moaned.

"Silencing spells!" called Hermione. "And aren't you bringing me another cup of tea? Priorities here, people!"

Harry laughed and Ron kissed the top of his head before turning to levitate the cups out to the lounge. Hermione was buried back in her book, a half-made list of potion ingredients next to her. 

"I'm not sure I'm mentally prepared for seeing the pair of you prancing around naked decked in flowers," said Hermione, "so I hope you appreciate the sacrifices I'm making for you."

"I thought you said I had a fine, manly form," protested Ron.

"I didn't realise I'd be seeing you naked then," said Hermione. "Harry's welcome to you."

"All mine," said Harry, and Ron kissed his lips once more before settling down in quiet companionship and love.


End file.
